Serious craving is serious.
Now I gotta delete my Tumblr so the wife doesn’t rummage through all my posts and find out about how I want to dole out roundhouse kicks to snotty children.
MY ONE LAST SANCTUARY. GONE.
- I just can’t find a pair of pants that I feel look good on me. I’m weird about pants. I’d really rather not wear them at all.
- I’m one of those people who has to eat everything that is on the table, especially if it tastes good. If you give me a gigunda bowl of pasta, I’m going to eat the whole thing. I think it’s one of those cave-man instinct things. You never know when you’re going to get another meal, so you better fill your belly now.
- We were at a wedding last weekend and there were a few couples toting babies around. I got really nervous and questioned whether I was truly ready for all that responsibility. So I drank a lot and told myself to enjoy the last responsibility-free summer of my life. I’ll be doing that for the rest of the summer. Come hang out while you still have the chance.
- At the same time, I really can’t wait to meet this peanut. I hope she’s a cool girl and not one of those little girls you want to punch.
- I don’t want to punch little girls. That would be wrong.
- Well, WANTING to punch them is fine. You just can’t actually punch them. That would be assault and child abuse.
- But seriously, sometimes you just want to punch a little kid because they act like little know-it-all pricks.
- I would never hit a kid.
- Especially not my own.
- But if no one was looking, and there is no way I would ever get caught, and some asshole’s offspring called me a fatty or wouldn’t shut up, I might consider roundhouse kicking them through a plate glass window.
- I should stop this list now.
So it’s, like, 3:46am and the wife shakes me awake and says, “I think I have a spider bite on my foot,” and I kind of grumble and then she says, “What if it’s poisonous and it goes into my bloodstream and it affects the baby?” and I’m still all grumbly with a touch of whining and mumbling, but she is now fully engulfed in a wave of unnecessary worry, which means that I somehow have to convince her that neither she nor the baby will be adversely affected by what is probably a mosquito bite and not a spider bite, but when I get up a few hours later and am getting ready for work, she rolls over and sort of whispers, “I hope it’s not a poisonous spider bite.”
Because I think I’m waaayyyyy past that threshold.
I can see the sounds coming out of your face.
I don’t like Mumford and Sons. I just… I can’t. I tried. I really tried. But I can’t.
There, I said it.
And I’m not sorry.
… of a grayish-black great dane sticking his massive head out of the sunroof of a Chevy Suburban as it traveled down a busy highway during the morning rush hour. Or maybe it was a GMC Yukon. I don’t know, I didn’t see. It was a big-ass white SUV.
Anyway, I wanted to take a pic as I drove by because it was pretty damn hilarious. I mean, the angle from which I was traveling made it appear like the dog was driving the truck, but was too big to fit in the seat so he had to stick his head out of the sunroof. C’mon! That’s pretty funny, right? I wish you could’ve seen it. But I couldn’t snarl my phone from the deathly grip of my pocket in time to snap a photo. Just trust me on this, it was very amusing. And it totally would’ve made your day.
Dammit, when will they make cameras you can install on your eyeballs?